


Fuck Male Urges

by TheBoysFanficInternational



Series: User Purple's fics [1]
Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation in Shower, Or so I've been told, Smut, Yearning, but on a different account, deleted when my judgement was impaired so I'm reposting, i know nothing about male biology, it's tasteful tho, kinda smut i guess, originally published september 8 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28064766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBoysFanficInternational/pseuds/TheBoysFanficInternational
Summary: It turns out being stuck in a moldy basement makes those 'essential male urges' Frenchie once preached about so infuriatingly annoying.He wonders what it would be like to please her, or to at least try.
Relationships: The Female | Kimiko Miyashiro/The Frenchman
Series: User Purple's fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055834
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	Fuck Male Urges

**Author's Note:**

> Repost from my personal account. I deleted it while I was in a weird/manic headspace but I know some people liked it so I thought I'd bring it back. I just don't want it associated with me right now.
> 
> I'm so mad that I deleted it. There were so many lovely comments - one or two that made me cry. I would go back and reread those comments and they would make me feel confident about my writing again... I can't believe didn't even save the comments. Plus it was my most popular fic so that was really nice. I was going to orphan it but I was afraid my account name would still be associated with it. I should have just posted it on a different account in the first place. I'm still so fucking mad at myself and I'm so sorry to y'all who may have saved it.
> 
> Well, enough of my ramblings. Enjoy the fic.

Male urges.

Frenchie spat at the thought. Fuck male urges.

He was jacking off in the shower in this disgusting hole in the ground, again. 

Every morning lately, he’d woken up horny as all hell. And he couldn’t even grasp why. There probably wasn’t a reason why.

But as much as he dismissed it he still couldn’t get these stupid, object-less urges to go away. His body or some cruel, buried part of his mind was never satisfied. 

He’d tried thinking of women he’d been with in the past like Cherie. He’d try thinking of men and just people he’d been with too. But most of the time, thinking of these people just disgusted him, or at least left him feeling strange. But never satisfied. None of them were here. It was like none of them had even been real to begin with.

Who was here, in this lonely little shithole he called “home...I guess”?

He had thought of Petit Hughie. What would it be like to have a weirdly tall twink of a man like him? It would be nice. Exciting even. He thought of the ways he could get that boy to squirm. The sounds that he could coax from those soft lips all too easily… But the more his mind lingered on the American boy in the neighboring bedroom, the more it felt like he’d be fucking his brother.

He had even thought of what it would be like to have Kimiko under him… or above him. It didn’t feel wrong necessarily, but it didn’t feel all too right either. Maybe it didn’t feel right because he had no idea if she would ever think of him that way. He could hardly tell if he even thought of her that way at all.

Maybe Cherie had been right. Maybe she was too special, too different, too good for this world for him to ever want to fuck like she was just some other woman.

The water pelting him now was freezing cold, and anything but soft.

He hadn’t ever really wanted to fuck Kimiko, but he’d thought of other things… He’d dreamt of a day where they’d live in a home of their own that didn’t double as a rat burrow like this place. A place where they’d be safe, and have all the time in the world. He’d dreamt of what it would be like to be in such a place, and feel her warm body so, so close to his. How they’d fit in each other’s arms like puzzle pieces.

He’d dreamt of kissing her. He’d thought of them curled up on the couch together, lazily making out for however long they wished - never having to check over their shoulders for threats. He’d spend hours memorizing how her lips felt against his-

The water was even colder now. The droplets felt like hail on his face. He turned his back to the sputtering stream of what was nearly ice and he was practically slapped in the face by how warm the air felt in contrast. 

-and when they’d kissed for hours and he’d start exploring what the soft skin of her neck would feel like against his lips, she might one day guide his hand down, down between them and-

-before he knew it he’d feel her soft heat on his face and he'd find out what it’s like to taste an angel. Or rather, taste the closest thing this world had to an angel. 

The water was warm and soft. He shivered.

What would it be like to please her, or to at least try?

His lips and tongue mouthing a prayer into her core. A wordless offering. A small glimpse of the worship and devotion he’d never be able to give her fully and enough to his satisfaction, but maybe it would satisfy her...

Would she breathe heavily and make new, sweet, voiceless sounds he’d never heard the likes of before?

Would she clutch his shoulders with her impossible strength and leave dark purple bruises that wouldn’t leave his skin for weeks?

And every time they ached, every time he pressed his fingers to where she had marked him with her own, oh how vividly would he remember every moment and feeling of that night. How his whole body would light up like Times Square - with electricity and memories - and her taste would be right back on his tongue again, and no matter where he was or who was watching, he’d squirm and lick his lips and ache for her warmth against his face once more. He’d ache to give to her again in the most fitting way he knew how.

How utterly good and warm and right it felt to bring her bliss... How he would savor the way her legs would tighten around his neck and how, when they both shuddered and cried out in their own broken ways, they’d release their grip on his neck. 

Oh how softly he’d caress her skin. How he’d worship every inch of her. That’s what it was. Worship. That’s what he longed to do.

Worshiping her was what satisfied him.


End file.
